Once Were Cops

Thirteen

Just when you’ve settled into a routine, albeit a hated one, the powers that be shake it up, shake you up.

O’Brien summoned me to his office and without any preamble said,

“You’re back on patrol.”

I was delighted, said,

“That’s great, thank you... sir.”

He gave a nasty chuckle, said,

“Don’t thank me yet, you’re back with Kebar.”

I tried to roll with that, said,

“We’ve worked fairly good together, got some decent collars.”

He looked at me, like, was I really that thick? Said,

“Jesus H, how dumb are you? The order came from on high and trust me, they aren’t doing you no favors, Kebar is fucked, he’s as good as gone and looks like they’re bringing you down with him.”

I had no answer to that and he barked,

“Get your ass in gear.”

Kebar was leaning against the car, his head fresh shaved again, he said,

“Dead men walking.”

He got behind the wheel and I waited till we pulled out before I asked,

“The fuck’s that mean?”

He had two Starbucks foam cups on the dash, indicated I should take one and said,

“They’re giving us enough rope to hang ourselves, we’re history.”

I was seriously pissed at how everyone was just wiping me off the board and asked,

“So what do we do?”

He swerved past a stalled cab, growled,

“We do our job, is what we do.”

He flicked a file at me, said,

“Take a look.”

It was on a guy named Crosby, a child molester, had taken two falls and was out again. I asked,

“And?”

Kebar checked his rearview mirror, said,

“He’s been hanging around a schoolyard on the Lower East Side, getting ready to snatch another kid, they let this piece of garbage walk after two years, you believe it?”

I closed the file, the pictures of the kids he’d hurt were gruesome, I asked,

“What are we going to do?”

Kebar smiled, said,

“Gonna have a wee chat with him, isn’t that what you Micks do... chat?”

We got to the playground and sure enough, sitting on a bench near the school was a lone figure, huddled in an army coat. Kebar said,

“He’ll have a camera in that coat and candies.”

I had to know, asked,

“How are we going to handle this?”

Kebar, sliding out of the car, said,

“Head-on, like a collision.”

Casey watched us coming, his eyes considering flight, but he opted for defiance.

Bad idea.

Kebar said,

“They let you out, huh?”

He didn’t look like a monster, but then they rarely do. He was slightly built, more like a lower-level clerk than the freak who’d done what I’d seen in the file.

He looked at Kebar, said,

“I’m cured, took the therapy in the joint and I’m all well now.”

Kebar sat beside him, his body relaxed, no aggression showing, said,

“That so, then... how come you’re hanging around a schoolyard, huh, academic interest?”

Casey was staring at me, trying to gauge how much of a threat I might be, then said,

“Just proving to myself I’m cured, that I can come here and not be tempted to... you know?”

Kebar looked at me, said,

“He means, he won’t have to grab a kid and stick his dong in them, or what was your special gig, oh right, making a five-year-old suck your shlong?”

Casey looked offended, said,

“No need for such abusive... language, I was sick then.”

Kebar was almost smiling, real bad omen, and said,

“And the kids you fucked, you think they’re all better now?”

Casey hung his head, said,

“I suffer deeply for who I was then.”

Kebar reached in his jacket, took out the Glock, let it lie loosely in his lap, said,

“This here, it’s a hell of a piece.”

And Casey got smartass, jibed,

“You gonna shoot me, Officer?”

The mockery in his voice showed me the face he kept hidden most of the time.

Kebar said,

“You ever hear of a guy getting shot in the ankle? See, the beauty of that is, how could it be planned? Who shoots someone in the ankle? And guess what, the ankle never sets properly, you get to hobble for the rest of your miserable life.”

Casey was openly defiant now, looked at me, asked,

“This guy for real?”

Kebar shot him in the ankle, stood up, said,

“Better call the paramedics, ol’ Casey won’t be attending school today, tell you what, buddy, I’ll write you a sick note.”

Looked at me, said,

“Let’s roll, partner, our work here is done.”

We got back in the car and I said,

“Interesting approach.”

Kebar put the car in drive, said,

“My aim was off, I think I blasted his heel.”

I didn’t know what to say and Kebar laughed, said,

“Shitheel... huh?”